


A Kiss For Flesh

by Gem_Gem, KittieHill



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gift Fic, Inexperienced Sherlock Holmes, John is a Sex God, M/M, Masturbation, Morning Sex, New Relationship, Orgasm, Rimming, Speaking French
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 05:56:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21471157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gem_Gem/pseuds/Gem_Gem, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittieHill/pseuds/KittieHill
Summary: They had never done this. Not yet. Sherlock had confided in John that he had never been touched intimately and John had been patient, but Sherlock was just too beautiful and John wanted to show him exactly how utterly desirable he found him.Using his hand gently, John nudged Sherlock to lay ever so slightly further onto his side to give him more room to work before he continued down, biting, sucking and kissing across Sherlock's buttocks.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 29
Kudos: 286





	A Kiss For Flesh

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SherlockWatson_Holmes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockWatson_Holmes/gifts).

> I was going through some financial difficulties after a miscarriage and Kat helped me out.
> 
> I promised to write her a fic (even though she didn't want anything in return for her generosity) and this is it! It's taken a while but I've finally got it finished and edited.
> 
> A massive, wonderful and incredible thank you to Gem_Gem who is my partner in crime, my bestie and my fellow pervert who has helped to write this and has always been there when I needed a cry or a rant.
> 
> Not beta'd except a run through Grammarly - and the French in it was taken directly from Google Translate so it may not be 100% accurate. I am happy to be corrected if it's wrong!
> 
> Please comment! You can also follow me on Twitter at @AO3Hill and Gem on tumblr at [Gem-Gem-Bites](http://gem-gem-bites.tumblr.com/)

Sherlock was masturbating.

It wasn’t often that John caught him doing it, yet when he did, it was always when they were in bed together, lying side by side, with only small points of contact. John had asked him about it once, tried to open up a dialogue between them, trying to be more open with their communication and confident in their budding, shifting, romantic relationship, but Sherlock had only stared at him blankly, dismissively, and John had changed the subject. It hadn’t been that long since they started being together in a_ not-so-platonic_ way, only a month and a few weeks at most, and even though the start had seemed almost effortless and right, John still found it difficult to express himself to Sherlock. As Sherlock was not a woman, Sherlock was not someone John could charm in the same ways, and Sherlock was a hell of a lot more high-maintenance than all of John’s girlfriends combined. Not that it was a bad thing, exactly, John knew Sherlock, understood his quirks, liked some bits of what made him, even if he was annoyed by others, however, it made the shift to romance from friendship harder than he would have liked.

Peeking through his lashes, John turned his head very slowly on the pillow to look, staring first at Sherlock’s messy curls before taking in the rest of him. He was on his side with his back to John, his arm working steadily, muscles tensing and bulging with each stroke, and his pyjama bottoms had been loosely pushed to just under his buttocks. John could see the paleness of them under the bridge of the duvet shared between them. It was both amusing and strangely intimate. John had seen Sherlock naked before, through thin bedsheets or in the shower, but he had never seen Sherlock naked in the bed. Not once. Not fully. Not when most of their sexual encounters happened outside of the bedroom.

The scent of male arousal seemed amplified by the small space between them, and John indulged in the heady, musky scent as well as the slightly slick sound which happened with each long pull of Sherlock's hand against his cock. Biting his lip as he considered his options, John decided to push his comfort zone ever so slightly and placed his hand on the top of Sherlock's hip, slowly and carefully pushing it down until it was midway up Sherlock's thigh.

The touch, as John had predicted, made Sherlock jolt and cease all movement, “Morning,” he rumbled with a sleep hazy tone of voice, so deep and raspy that it shuddered its way throughout John’s body.

“Good mornin',” John replied, letting his nose and lips nudge behind Sherlock's nape and up to his hairline, hand continuing its stroking up and down his thigh and down to his buttocks fleetingly, “Sleep well?”

“It was mediocre,” Sherlock responded, adjusting how he lay and bending one of his legs. “I know _you_ slept well. Had quite a nice dream too, judging from the mumbling and giggling--This is the fifth time you’ve laughed in your sleep.”

“Mmm… my sleep was nice – but waking up to this is better...” John purred, rolling his hips into the exposed flesh of Sherlock's buttocks and pushing his semi-hard cock against him. Following Sherlock's shoulder blades, John kissed and sucked small marks into the pale skin before beginning to kiss along Sherlock's spine, getting lower and lower until his head was under the duvet.

Sherlock tensed and twisted to look back at him, face flushed and blotchy when John caught sight of it, “What are you doing?” he asked lowly, brow furrowed, though not as deeply as it normally was when he was angry or utterly confused. Sherlock looked curious with John’s actions, but not to the point of complete perplexity.

“Saying good morning,” John said from beneath the sheets, wiggling and shuffling as he kissed, licked and even nipped his way across the beautiful flesh under his lips. It was hot and stuffy underneath the duvet, but John didn't stop until he reached the dimples at the very top of Sherlock's buttocks which he spent a few moments simply lathing with his tongue.

They had never done this. Not yet. Sherlock had confided in John that he had never been touched intimately and John had been patient, but Sherlock was just too beautiful and John wanted to show him exactly how utterly desirable he found him.

Using his hand gently, John nudged Sherlock to lay ever so slightly further onto his side to give him more room to work before he continued down, biting, sucking and kissing across Sherlock's buttocks.

“...You don’t normally say it in this fashion,” Sherlock murmured above, not yet pushing him away and so not yet damaging John’s fragile confidence. Instead, he submitted to John’s hand and even reached down to shyly, lightly, comb his fingers through John’s hair, pushing his fringe aside and cradling the back of his head. It was something he liked to do when they were kissing, petting John with tenderness and care, and delicate, diffident caresses, like John would dissolve and disappear if he didn’t.

“Felt like spoiling you,” John said against the flesh just underneath Sherlock's buttock crease where it met thigh. The smell of arousal and general _Sherlockness_ was overwhelming from here and John groaned slightly as he let his hands rest on each buttock, gently teasing them apart. The darkness of being under the cover didn't allow him to see much, but John was a talented lover – and a good doctor – who knew where he should be aiming as he leaned in and blew a gentle breath across the untouched, sensitive skin between Sherlock's bum cheeks.

Sherlock twitched and shifted, pulling away from John a few inches in obvious surprise and self-consciousness, “John…” he whispered, throwing back part of the duvet and encompassing blankets. “John, you can’t be _seriously_ considering…”

“Not _just_ considering...” John moaned, blinking at the sunlight which had been allowed in to his sex fort. The light allowed him to see Sherlock in his entirety and he moaned as he leaned in and licked a stripe across Sherlock's right buttock. “Rather excited to taste you...” he said as he let his thumb ever so gently rest over the other man's hole, circling the edges, “_right here_.”

“Wh-why? That is...that’s not exactly an area of considerably pleasant... _flavour_,” he said, blushing up to his ears and crawling an embarrassed hand in-between John and his arse, trying to swat John away.

“Just… let me try?” John soothed, taking Sherlock's hand and entwining their fingers, “If you don't like it, I'll stop – but believe me, I'll like it. You showered before bed last night so I know you're clean… just… try and relax? It'll be nice. I promise.”

Sherlock floundered for a moment, lost for words, a rarity and an abrupt ego boost, “Since when have you... you been interested in... _that_ part of me?” he got out, looking anywhere but at how close John was to him. “You have done this before then?”

“Not to you and that's all that matters,” John replied, leaning in to playfully bite Sherlock's buttock, “And I've _always_ been interested in this part. My masturbation fantasies revolved a lot around this particular part...” he smirked, glad Sherlock couldn't really see his grin but he knew the detective would hear it in his voice, “May I show you? Please?”

It took several moments before Sherlock removed his hand and shot him a narrowed, defeated glare, his blush only deepening and spreading in a rather adorable patchwork, “You promise to stop if I react, _in any way_, against this?” he mumbled, twisting to take hold of his pillow instead, peering down at John from over his bare shoulder. “And that you will keep this, _and your comments about it_, to yourself?”

“No, I was thinking of taking out a double page spread in the Express newspaper,” John scoffed playfully, rubbing across Sherlock's lower back and down to his waist which he held tightly, “Of course I'll keep it to myself. Everything we do in this bedroom is between us, and us alone.”

“I was _including_ me. I don’t want to know or be reminded,” Sherlock huffed, looking away and dropping his head down, giving John a glorious view up his faintly arched, long, slender back. It was a sight that John had never seen before and one he wanted to be repeated. He found everything about the man ridiculously addictive and compelling. Even before everything changed he was attracted to Sherlock’s presence, his unique looks.

“I promise,” John said honestly, kissing a few soft pecks across whatever skin he could reach as he let his hand trail around to Sherlock's belly to stroke gently, “and if you don't like it, we don't ever have to do it again – and if you do like it? Then _brilliant_. That's what I want.”

“I thought you said you had a thing for my neck?” Sherlock asked in a muffled murmur as he brought the pillow closer to bury his face into.

“Your neck...” John said as he kissed Sherlock's left buttock, “Your stomach,” followed by a kiss to the left, “Your beautiful, perfectly sized cock...” he smiled as he carefully ran his fingers down the goosebump covered skin to spread Sherlock's buttocks apart. “And _this_ part of you. They're all perfect...” he said as he leaned in and gave a gentle touch of his tongue against the furled ring of Sherlock's entrance.

It fluttered with Sherlock’s bodily shift and John glanced up to watch Sherlock over his head with his arms at the teasing, feather-light sensation, “_Oh God_…” he uttered, neither disgusted nor pleased with the outcome, not that John really expected much of a response for such a small action. “Go on then…”

Grinning to himself, John moved in closer and began to explore with his tongue. He started lightly, licking around the whole area and sensitising Sherlock to the feeling before pressing harder, pointing his tongue and letting Sherlock really feel the strong muscle which circled and massaged him. John felt dizzy with lust (although it could have been lack of oxygen between Sherlock's plump buttocks) and he moaned loudly as he carefully and slowly pressed his tongue an inch inside Sherlock's body.

In reaction, Sherlock bent his legs slightly, startled, and more light bathed John and the pale, warm flesh before his eyes as the blankets were kicked further down, pooling across John’s shoulders, “Wh-what are you…” he breathed, head now up from his pillow as he panted and gave a wet, hitching gasp. “_Don’t_ do that…”

“You don't like it?” John asked softly, careful not to spook Sherlock or make him feel like he was being judged, “I can stop? But believe me… it'll feel so good, Sherlock. Trust me?”

“You want to...to _penetrate_ me this way?” Sherlock questioned shakily, squirming and wiggling to get his pyjama bottoms the rest of the way off. “It... it’s not that I dislike it precisely... I don’t know how to really feel about it, as it’s not something I’ve ever thought of or... or had done to me.”

John trailed his tongue around and around Sherlock's hole again, relaxing the twitching muscles before pressing a sloppy kiss directly over it “I want to penetrate you in every way possible,” John purred, “but I want to taste you. I want to know what you taste like on my tongue.”

“...I had no idea you were this _vulgar and promiscuous_,” Sherlock said huskily, his nape and even some of his upper back flushing a mottled pink with visible interest.

“I was on my best behaviour,” John laughed kindly, biting the fleshy bit of Sherlock's buttock before hoisting Sherlock up until the detective was on his knees, his head still down resting sideways on the pillow creating a beautiful curve to his spine which John followed by getting on his knees behind Sherlock. Now that the taller man was up, John didn't need to hold open his buttocks which gave him an opportunity to seek out Sherlock's cock which was hard and leaking between his legs, precome drooling down towards the sheets as it throbbed and dribbled untouched. John ran his hand up the shaft, holding it and enjoying the weight in his hand as he ducked his head and began to lick, prod and kiss across and inside Sherlock's hole.

Sherlock grunted thickly and grappled for a tight hold of the headboard without lifting his head too much, “_Oh God_…” he got out between clenched teeth, the length of his erection bouncing within John’s grasp, hot and heavy and slick. With no evidence of any objection forthcoming and only the darkening of the flush of arousal and filling scent of mascline arousal, John fell into the passionate act with relish. He had stared longingly at Sherlock’s backside many a time, had fantasised, as he had previous stated, of being able to do more than cup and squeeze it, and to be tasting and pressing and indulging gave him an instant dizzying rush of pride. Especially when Sherlock rocked faintly back into him, nudging his jaw a bit wider with a tilting arch for a blatant bid for more.

John gave him more. Gave him everything he could possibly think of in order to titillate and pleasure his lover. He licked at the rim before pushing his tongue inside, pushing deeper and stretching Sherlock further than he had previously and groaned as he was doing so, feeling his moans reverberate through the thin skin of Sherlock's bottom.

Using his thumb carefully, John stroked around Sherlock's sensitive frenulum, feeling the slick precome aiding his way as he tried to keep a rhythm of fucking Sherlock with his tongue, and stroking him in a way that wouldn't take him over the edge.

“_Oui_…” Sherlock croaked so quietly that John almost missed it, his heart so loud in his ears and the wet sounds of his own mouth and tongue on Sherlock’s virgin flesh all he was aware of, all he could hear for a moment. He paused, just for a second, trying to listen with more intrigue, and drew a broad, consuming strip up and over Sherlock’s twitching flesh. “J'aime ça…”

The realisation of making Sherlock feel so much pleasure that he slipped into another language was enough to make John's own aching (but mostly forgotten) cock twitch and pulse and John had the urge to rut down into the mattress to satisfy the throbbing in his groin. He couldn't bring himself to stop caressing and tasting Sherlock though, and so he continued to fuck his tongue inside Sherlock, curling it and flicking it at random as he gently stroked Sherlock's cock which was now leaking so much that it had soaked John down to the wrist.

“N'arrête pas…” Sherlock suddenly groaned after a building of panting breaths, shaking and rocking, head thrown back somewhat as he physically begged John for more, wanton and suggestive and eager. “Oui... oui, prends-moi...lèche moi...oh, _oui_!”

John didn't have a clue what Sherlock was saying other than oui, but it sounded positive and so he continued. It didn't take long before Sherlock was worked open, stretched as wide as he could be by John's tongue.

“Sherlock...” John said, voice gravelly and deep with lust, “Can I put a finger in? Please…” he asked before pushing his tongue so deep that his cheeks were smushed into Sherlock's buttocks hard enough to ache.

“Doigte-moi,” he whimpered, sounding dazed, high on stimulation and trembling now with every lick, every kiss, every pushing, stretching, twisting penetration. “Oui... oui…” Sherlock shifted then, rolling his shoulders, taking his pillow in his arms, and glanced back at him with a slack expression of pure unrestrained desire. His lips were parted and swollen from being bitten, his cheeks were rosy, and his eyes were dark, the ring of his iris thin and pale and ethereal around his dilated pupil.

“You're so _fucking_ _beautiful_...” John said suddenly, meeting Sherlock's gaze and wiping the back of his chin with his hand, “You have no _fucking_ idea how _gorgeous_ you are...”

Seeing Sherlock shiver at the praise, John slowly lifted his hand to Sherlock's hole and tentatively pushed his index finger inside. He expected a little bit of resistance but his finger pushed through both rings of muscle without a hitch as Sherlock was so overwhelmingly aroused and stretched. John purred at the back of his throat, biting his bottom lip as he twisted and turned his finger, letting Sherlock become used to the sensation before he gently pressed the pad of his finger against the other mans prostate.

Sherlock gave him a wide-eyed look and stiffened, choking on his next inhale and releasing it around a fervent moan, “Je suis sur le point de jouir…” he told John, a warning tone to his words. His cock had hardened and thickened dramatically as well, his scrotum tight and high. John didn’t need to understand French to know that Sherlock was close to orgasm, the mere sight and feel of it, the thick, copious amounts of pre-ejaculate, were evidence enough for him.

“It's okay… you can come...” John moaned, using hand to slowly begin to stroke Sherlock's cock from base to tip, milking out the precome as his other hand continued to press and massage the gland inside him. Sherlock's noises were unbearably sexy and John was practically vibrating with arousal, it wouldn't take more than one or two strokes to have him coming and seeing stars, “_Fuck_, Sherlock… I _want_ you to come.”

“Je peux... jouir dans ta main?” he questioned breathlessly, rocking and shuddering and beginning to make deep, thick, throaty sounds of raising need with each exhale. Muscles rippling as they contracted and spine arcing, bringing his head back and then down into his pillow. It was perfection, utter sublime magnificence. John couldn’t believe how lucky he was, how much he wanted Sherlock, how obsessed with the taste, smell and look of him he was. “Mm... _plus vite_! N'arrete pas!”

“I can't understand you,” John moaned, hips thrusting with each shaky one of Sherlock's, “I don't know what you're saying...” he insisted as he tightened his grip on Sherlock's cock and returned his tongue to fuck alongside his finger, stretching Sherlock wider still and tasting the salt of Sherlock sweat with each thrust inside.

Fumbling, Sherlock took John’s hand in his and pushed it to the head of his jumping erection, cupping it around the glans, “Oui?” he wheezed, thighs starting to violently quiver as he got closer and closer, as John pulled him to his apex with everything he had. “Ta main…”

“_Oh_… Yes… _Yes_...” John nodded, only removing his tongue in order to talk before he returned it to its previous position, pushing alongside his own digit with a moan.

It was barely a minute after that Sherlock’s lower body started to convulse with his climax, “Oh... _oh oui_… putain... oui!” he breathed as his muscles tightened in a spasm and the first hot spurt left him, coating John’s palm and fingers, quickly followed by several more that lined his skin, dribbled off the sides to hit the bed.

John whimpered, continuing to help Sherlock extend his orgasm and enjoying the clenching of Sherlock's muscles against his tongue and finger. It was overwhelming, and incredibly beautiful to watch Sherlock's shaky legs attempt to keep him upright as the last few drops dribbled to the bed.

When Sherlock slumped forward at the end of his orgasm, John removed his mouth and hand and grabbed Sherlock's hip to flip him easily, forcing Sherlock to lay on his back blinking up at the sudden change of scenery. John straddled Sherlock's upper thighs, hand immediately rushing to his own cock to stroke and squeeze knowing that it wouldn't take long at all to push him over the edge.

“_Fuck_… Sherlock...” John rambled, eyes fluttering closed and head hanging back on his shoulders as he thrust his hips into his own fist, gritting his teeth at the almost-too-much pleasure of his hand, “G'na… _oh god_, I'm going to come...” he gasped, pointing his cock down and aiming at Sherlock's own prick and stomach which he covered with long strands of pearly ejaculate, shivering and shaking with the intensity of his orgasm.

Panting, overcome and buzzing from it, Sherlock looked at the glistening, haphazard stripes that criss-crossed his heaving abdomen and torso, and let out an intoxicated giggle, “J’ai envie de t’embrasser,” he said, words outlined in a sensuous and satisfied purr. “Tu me rends heureux. Je suis fou de toi. Je t' adore. - Serre-moi. _Embrasse-moi_.”

“You're ridiculous,” John grinned, but it was obvious that his affection shone through his words, “I've never made anyone stop speaking English before...” he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the centre of Sherlock's forehead, and then down to peck a kiss onto the tip of Sherlock's regal nose.

Sherlock reached up, hooking his longer arms around John and tugging him down so they were side by side, heated skin pressed against one another as Sherlock shimmied away from the wet patch to nuzzle his head into the crease of John's shoulder and neck. Both content to simply spend the remainder of the morning curled together, enjoying one another's company.

Before he nodded off, John made a mental note to download a French language education app.


End file.
